


Geralt Gets Thrown Out of a Wedding

by inanoldhouseinparis



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Monster of the Week, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:46:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28488531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inanoldhouseinparis/pseuds/inanoldhouseinparis
Summary: While Jaskier performs at a wedding, Geralt does some sleuthing. After he solves a mystery no one asked him to, he learns a something he never expected.A Gift for emmaziege on tumblr
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 5
Kudos: 82
Collections: Geraskier Holiday Exchange 2020





	Geralt Gets Thrown Out of a Wedding

“You know we can never go back to this town, now,” Jaskier complained as they left the village. “You threatened a groom at his own wedding. His father-in-law is the mayor. We’ve practically been thrown out on our ears from a town that two days ago welcomed us with open arms. I’ve worked hard to improve your reputation, and then you go and pull a stunt like that?” 

**TWO DAYS EARLIER**

They were on their way to a wedding Jaskier had been asked to perform at. The daughter of a mayor of a decently sized village was getting married, and apparently, she was a fan of his. It was less than he would make playing at a court, but more than he would make playing at a tavern, so Jaskier accepted. And where Jaskier went, Geralt went, and vice versa. 

It was still new, this thing between them. Not the companionship, they had been friends and traveling companions for years. But the tenderness, the soft touches, the fleeting kisses, all that was new. And as such, it was still delicate, not as solid as it needed to be to withstand a hardship. 

They walked companionably down the road to the village, but as they got closer, Geralt pulled his hand out of Jaskier’s grasp. There was no place where loving a Witcher would be accepted and allowed. 

He looked at Geralt with sad but understanding eyes and didn’t comment on it. And soon they entered the village.

They headed straight to the inn, where according to the contract Jaskier had a room for two nights. He had requested a large bed, and had agreed; whether it was because they believed him a spoiled bard or because they believed he intended to share it, they didn’t say. 

As they ate dinner, the townspeople requested a performance. Jaskier agreed but said out of respect for the wedding tomorrow he would limit his playing to a few songs. After his brief performance, he went back to join Geralt at their table. He made to sit down on Geralt’s lap, but Geralt was too quick and scooted away so Jaskier was forced to sit beside him. Jaskier leaned against him, pleasantly tipsy but not full drunk. He looked up at Geralt with wide eyes and leaned forward to kiss him, but Geralt leaned away. 

“No,” he whispered to Jaskier. “Not here.”

He knew how people treated Witchers, with distrust and disdain. And he saw the love and adoration that had for the lively and colorful bard. He would never do anything that would make people inclined to treat Jaskier the way they treated him. 

Jaskier looked away, and Geralt could almost feel the pang of sadness coming from him. Then he looked back at Geralt with determination. 

“Okay,” he whispered back. “Not here.”

He took Geralt’s hand and stood, trying to pull the witcher up after him. Geralt pulled his hand out of Jaskier’s, but stood and followed him to his room. 

Jaskier waited til the door closed behind them, but barely. “If I can’t kiss you out there,” he said as he wrapped his arms around Geralt, “then I’d much rather not be out there at all.”

The next morning was the day of the wedding and Jaskier had a routine. Sleep in, drink his special herbal tea with honey to soothe his throat, stretch his hands and arms, and warm up his voice. Spend the day doing nothing strenuous, then as afternoon waned he warmed up again, and finally dressed for his performance. Geralt, having had the day to shop at leisure and stock his supplies, dressed as well. Then together they went to the mayor’s house to perform at his daughter’s wedding. 

The people in the village, much to Geralt's surprise, had not been scared of him. Not last night, although that was understandable with Jaskier next to him, and not all day today as he made his rounds on the market buying supplies. As they entered the wedding people grew more and more afraid of him. But it wasn't normal. They weren't scared to stand next to him, or afraid to talk to him, but they were almost nervous that he was there. 

As Jaskier spun around the room, playing and singing, Geralt looked at the couple at the high table, happily ignoring him as they whispered sweet nothings to each other. There was something wrong, but Geralt couldn’t put his finger on it. It was only when the groom reached for his wine goblet that Geralt figured it out. His copper wine goblet. As Geralt looked closer, he noticed that everyone else seated at the wedding table had proper silver goblets and cutlery, and the groom’s was made of copper. The groom's heart raced when he saw how intently Geralt was looking at him.

“Tell me,” Geralt said conversationally to the woman standing drinking next to him, “what is their story? How long have they known each other?”

“Oh, he’s come to town going on two years ago. Lost his family, he said, so he moved in with old mother Hilda, who had just lost her son to sickness. He helped with the heavy lifting she couldn’t do herself. And they helped each other with their mourning. One day, as he’s moving the cow outside to graze, she’s coming down the road on her way to market for a new dress. He says she’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, and she says, she’s glad to meet him, as she missed her friend Hubert, that was Mother Hilda’s son, and she was glad someone was helping his mother.”

“Hmm,” if he was new to town, there was no telling what he could have been.

“And from there it wasn’t much time at all til they were proper sweet on each other, though it took him quite some time to work up the nerve to ask to court her. I think it was her starting to get attention from other men that finally pushed him to ask. She never paid those other men any mind, she had her heart set on him, but I think she pretended to push him to ask.”

“They seem very happy together,” he mentioned, and when she nodded he thanked her for answering his question and moved on.

"Tell me about the happy couple,” he asked a drunken man, laughing and drinking at a table with some friends. "Ah, she's the mayor's daughter, the town darling. And he's Hilda's boy, a good lad. We're all glad to see them wed. And there's no more to say about him than that.” The drunk man nodded, satisfied that he had said all that was needed. 

“He’s recently come to town?” Geralt pressed.

The man looked like he was thinking hard to remember something. “No,” he finally answered. “He’s been here his whole life. Known him since he was a lad.”

“He’s lived here his whole life,” the town midwife answered when asked later. “I delivered him myself.”

“He’s Hilda’s adopted son,” another person answered. “She was alone until he moved in.”

“I noticed he drinks from a copper cup,” Geralt commented to a girl serving the food.

“Oh yes. He has an allergy to silver. Makes his mouth swell up, he says, so he never uses silver forks neither, even though the mayor is surely rich enough.” 

The groom was almost certainly non-human, probably a doppler. The only question was, had he been a doppler this whole time?

“Is it new, this allergy?” If the allergy was new, there was a chance that the groom had been replaced by the doppler. 

“I only heard about it when they started setting dishes out for the wedding. He’s never said anything about it before now, probably on account of not wanting to, well, you know.”

He did know. A silver allergy was a real ailment, but it was also a common coverup for monsters who could take human form. All of this, combined with the way he was especially nervous around Geralt, added up to the fact that the groom was almost definitely a doppler. 

Geralt crept around the room until he was behind the great table. Jaskier had convinced him to leave his swords behind, but he had kept a silver dagger tucked into his boot. He pulled the dagger out. If the touch of silver didn’t bother the man until later, it was an allergy. But if he reacted right away, he was surely a doppler. Geralt reached out and touched the hilt of the dagger to the groom’s exposed arm. 

The reaction was immediate. The groom froze and the putrid smell of fear was overwhelming. 

“What’s wrong, darling?” the bride asked before she saw Geralt with a dagger in his hand. 

“This isn’t your groom,” Geralt told her. “This is a doppler who has taken his form.”

“Go away, witcher!” She spat at him. “There is no work for you here. No contract for you to fulfill. You have attended our wedding and to spite our hospitality and generosity you have threatened my husband. Get out!”

“He’s a doppler,” Geralt repeated. “I would find your true groom.”

“He is her true groom,” said the woman from before. 

“I’ve known this whole time that he’s a doppler,” the young bride explained. “He came to town hunted by those who killed his family and took refuge in our church. He called sanctuary and we gave it him. He never lied. He always admitted to being a doppler. He lived well-liked among us until poor Hubert died. His mother had already started having memory problems. It seemed cruel to leave her alone, and every day she called out for Hubert. 

“So the townspeople came up with an idea. He would become Hubert. Those who sought to kill him would be unable to find him, and his mother would get her son back. That’s when I met him. I knew the whole time that he wasn’t the original Hubert, but I also knew he was a good, kind man that the whole village was willing to lie to protect. He won my heart just as easily as he won the village’s trust.”

Suddenly Geralt understood why the town was so nervous at the wedding. They weren’t afraid of him. They were afraid that he would do exactly what he had done- discover the groom’s identity and threaten him because of it. The feeling of shame began to curl in his gut. 

Jaskier appeared at the lady’s side, strumming his lute nervously. “What a tale! Life and death! Love and loss! It would truly make an excellent ballad, worthy of being sung far and wide across the whole of the Continent. If I may, I would offer my humble skills to write such a ballad, exalting your love.”

“We would ask, master bard, that you would refrain,” Hubert replied. “There are still those who would do me harm if they found out my true nature.”

“We would also ask, Witcher, that you take your leave,” Angela said in a tone that allowed no argument. “We understand you had good intentions, but you did still threaten my husband at our wedding. Master bard, please play on, but I ask that both of you leave this village tomorrow morning.”

Geralt inclined his head. “I understand. I apologize for my actions here tonight. I’ll take my leave tomorrow.” He started to leave but was kicked in the shin by Jaskier, who seemed to be trying to imply that he was leaving something unsaid. “I offer you my congratulations. My interactions with both humans and inhumans often either start or end with death. It's not often that I get to hear of a time that ends well for everyone. I hope I have not too unsettled what deserves to be a joyous time.”

And with a final polite bow, he left. Behind him, he could hear Jaskier soothing the crowd and working them back into a celebratory mood. 

The next morning, he was already packed by the time Jaskier stumbled back into his room, still a little tipsy, just before the sun rose. Geralt picked up their packed bags. 

“They said we had to leave by morning, and the sun is almost up. It's time to be on our way.”

“They said we had to leave in the morning, so that gives us until noon,” Jaskier countered. “Wake me up at half-past eleven and not one minute sooner,” he ordered as he flopped face-first into the bed. Soon he was asleep and there was nothing Geralt could do but wait. 

At eleven exactly, he went downstairs and ordered food for himself and Jaskier, then went upstairs and woke him. 

“What time is it?” Jaskier asked blearily.

“Quarter past eleven. You always need 15 more minutes to get ready than you think, especially when you’re hungover.”

When Jaskier was hungover and sleep-deprived (a common occurrence) he grumbled. Jaskier grumbled as he ate his food, grumbled as he packed his bag, and grumbled as they walked Roach out of town. 

“You know we can never go back to this town, now,” he complained as they left the village. “You threatened a groom at his own wedding. His father-in-law is the mayor. We’ve practically been thrown out on our ears from a town that two days ago welcomed us with open arms. I’ve worked hard to improve your reputation, and then you go and pull a stunt like that?” 

While Geralt waited for Jaskier to run out of steam so he could apologize, his grumbling rant was interrupted by the sound of someone running up behind them. A messenger boy came into view, running full tilt towards them. He skidded to a stop then panted out his message. 

“You are invited, sirs,” he paused to pant again, “back into town by the Honorable Mayor, his daughter, and his new son-in-law. They asked me to convey,” he paused to take thankful gulps from the waterskin Jaskier offered him wordlessly. “Thank you, sir. They asked me to convey their regret at their words and actions last night, and they admit they had acted too hastily and without thought. You are invited to spend a few days at the mayor’s own house, and you, master bard, are even permitted, if you would still desire it, to compose a ballad, provided you change any identifying details.” 

“We absolutely accept,” Jaskier answers before Geralt can. “It would be my honor to compose that ballad, and their offer of hospitality is overly generous, especially considering, well, last night. When you’ve caught your breath, run back, and tell them that we are honored to accept and thank them for their gracious and generous offer.”

The boy took one more drink from the waterskin, handed it back to Jaskier, and sprinted away. 

“I’m still sorry, Jaskier,” Geralt confessed. 

Jaskier laughed. “It turned out alright, I suppose. I did have to work hard to butter up poor Angela. She was quite shaken by you threatening her husband. I told her I related to having your beloved threatened because he wasn’t quite human, and I knew how much it hurt to see them treated that way. I know what it's like to have people look at the one you love and see a monster instead of seeing the truth: a good and kind man. 

“They can’t really blame a man, I explained, for being told his only value is in hunting monsters, and then get mad when he sees monsters wherever he goes. It was of course Hubert who finally brought her around. The man is made of pure kindness; it's easy to see why the entire village loves him. When I told them about us, how you make us hide our relationship when anyone is around, and he listened, and he told her about what it was like living in a bigger city, how careful his whole family had to be. How one slip up cost his entire family. He held nothing against you since you left after she explained he hadn’t tricked her. 

“You could have killed him and you didn’t. You listened, you apologized, you understood.”

Jaskier smiled at him. “There were no monsters at that wedding. There is no evil in this town. If the mayor’s daughter can marry a doppler, if the whole town would agree to lie to save the life of an inhuman, maybe there is a place for a bard to love a witcher and a witcher to love a bard.”

Jaskier took his hand, tangled their fingers together, and hand in hand they walked back into the village. 


End file.
